


Inspiration from Hell

by Reflet271



Category: Helluva Boss (Web Series)
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Slice of Life, Slow Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-28
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-19 09:48:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29748684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Reflet271/pseuds/Reflet271
Summary: When another fight ends worse than the others before them, Stolas decides to leave Hell and seek help with his newly realized problems. The portal sends him to a popular artist who struggles in a world keen on critiquing all that she does, the spark that drove her now dim and cold. After getting over the hurdle of differences between, Stolas begins to feel something he hasn't felt for ever since his marriage and subsequent affair with Blitzo.
Relationships: Stolas Goetia/Reader
Comments: 3
Kudos: 25





	1. Chapter one

“Stella please-”

“Don’t give me that ‘Stella please’ spiel of yours! I can’t believe after all that talk about family and love you’d just go and have another one with another imp! I should have known better than to trust you after the last time!” Stolas ducked as his wife threw another potted plant over his head. “How many times must we do this before it gets old? You know what, forget it. I don’t know why I even bothered to put up with this for so long. Take it all in, you imp fucker, because it’s the last you’ll see of me for a long while!” The avian winced hearing the door slam shut.

He looked around the messy bedroom, waving his fingers and cleaning the worst of it with his magic. He sat down on the soft bed, putting one clawed hand over his eyes while leaning back. 

“I’ve really done it now, haven’t I…” He mumbled. A knocking on his door drew his attention, and he sat up and called out to whoever was on the other side. “Come in.” The door opened, revealing a disgruntled younger owl. 

“What. The fuck dad.” Stolas looked away from his daughter. “Do I even have to say anything? Or did mom chew you out enough already?” Stolas decided not to answer that, opting instead to stand up and leave the room. “Where are you going?” 

“To the kitchen, Octavia. I need a drink.” 

“Dad, you can’t keep doing this. I thought you promised to be faithful to mom!” 

“...It’s hard to be faithful to someone you don’t love.” The prince’s comment made Octavia slow her pace. “I’m sure you’ve figured it out by now, but your mother and I weren’t married by choice. We were married because of our status.”

“Then...then was what I experienced as a child a lie?”

“No, when you were born, we both promised each other to put up with one another for you. You coming into our lives was one of the brighter times. But as you can see, your mother is too obsessed with her appearance to put time aside for us. 

“Aren’t you doing the same? Fucking an imp while forgetting about me and mom?” 

“It’s not like that. Blitzy and I-” 

“He’s using you dad. Anyone with half a brain can see that!” Stolas growled, slamming the refrigerator door shut. 

“Octavia Goetia...you would be wise not to finish that sentence.”

“I’m not wrong. You might think it’s all fun and games, but I did some digging. Turns out he and Verosika Mayday used to date.”

“...Who?”

“A famous succubus singer. Look, the important thing is that he maxed out several credit cards on horseback lessons. Not even something that benefits that company of his! And now he’s doing the same thing with you and the grimoire!” Octavia gasped as she felt an ominous pulse blow through her whole body. Her father’s feathers turned even darker than usual, and his eyes appeared to absorb every last bit of light in the room.

 _ **“He is not. Using me! Both of us love one another, more than your mother and I ever have!”**_ Stolas’ voice boomed loudly. Octavia waited for her father to calm down enough to return to normal, straightening her back and glaring daggers into the taller demon.

“He isn’t. You are. The thinly veiled threats to your flirting? The way he acts around you? It’s not love...it’s hate. And you’re too obsessed over his dick to realize that.” Stolas clenched his hands, opening his mouth to reply. “Until you realize that, I think it’s best if you see someone to help you with this problem.” Turning to leave, she threw one last look at Stolas. “You know, I really thought you meant what you said in the funhouse at Loo Loo land. I guess getting laid is more important after all.” 

“Via I-” Stolas called, but the owl had already left through the door. Stolas let his arm hang in the air for a moment before dropping it to his side. He clutched his chest, squeezing his eyes as the pain of being turned away by the one good thing in his life was more than he could handle in his state. 

Heaving lightly, he fumbled for his phone, opening the device and scrolling to the app that contained photos he kept of him and Blitzo. Swiping through them, a clearer picture of how the imp came to see the prince became more and more clear to him. In every one except for a few where Blitzo wasn’t paying attention or distracted, he had a scowl or disgruntled look on his face. It was painfully obvious next to his own gleeful smiles.

 _Bzzzz...bzzz…_ He jolted as his phone began to vibrate, another scowling picture of Blitzo lighting up the screen along with his name. He slowly swiped the answer button. 

“H-hello?” 

“Hello? Your highness? This is Moxxie, one of Blitzo’s employee’s. We met briefly at Loo Loo land?” 

“I remember. What is it? And why are you calling from Blitzy’s number?” 

“That’s the thing. He’s gotten himself into some trouble up in the human world, and we’re taking some time off while he recovers. We just wanted to call to let you know.”

“Oh dear, is he alright?” 

“More or less.” 

“I see...what about my grimoire?” 

“That old thing? It’s sitting in one of our rooms at the office. We very rarely use it nowadays.”

“What? But don’t you need it to summon a portal to do your job?” 

“We do, but recently one of our newer co-workers can do the same thing, though not as often as yours.” Stolas held a hand to his mouth, tears beginning to form.

_“He’s using you dad. It’s not love you're in, it’s obsession.”_

“Hello? Your Highness are you still there?” 

“Y-yes. I’m sorry, there’s been a lot going on here recently. I don’t suppose you could give me back the grimoire then?” 

“Eh? I mean, I guess so...we haven’t used it in over two months so…” Two months...that long?  
“Sure, I’ll have it delivered to you by tomorrow then.”

“Alright. Take care now.” Hearing the drone of the call, Stolas put down the phone, seating himself on a couch. He rubbed one set of eyes, then the other. Glancing at the bottle in his other hand, he pulled the stopper, chugging it all down. The burning in his throat felt too similar to another feeling of choking on something, and he quickly tossed the bottle. The glass shattered, drowning out the wail that came from his own mouth. 

“I...i-it can’t be true…” Stolas whimpered, curling up on the couch. No matter how he looked at it, his daughter and wife’s words began to make more and more sense the longer he thought about it. With a sob, he wove his hands once more, this time over his eyes. The magic he used was potent enough to do the job he wanted, and his breath evened out as he drifted off in slumber from his own spell.

* * *

_“This is a job, not an excuse for you to fuck my ass in that park.”_

_“You’ll have to find someone else to plant that feathered ass.”_

_“We’re assassins, not bodyguards.”_

“Stop…”

_“I don’t want to see your pathetic, imp sucking face!”_

“Stop...please…” 

_“I thought you meant what you said back at Loo Loo Land...guess getting laid is more important.”_

“I said **Stop**!” Stolas kneeled on the ground, hands gripping his head as the voices piled on and overlapped till it became nothing more than noise. He couldn’t think. Couldn’t breathe. 

_“When I’m older, I’ll find someone to truly love! Just like in my stories!”_ His own younger voice echoed louder than the rest. Raising his head, eyes wide with fear, Stolas screamed into the abyss.

* * *

“Another day, another art piece…” You quietly said to yourself as you finished the last bit of your painting. With a tired smile, you took a picture and posted it to your social media, seeing the numbers rise. 

It made you feel better, if only for a moment. Your eyes caught some of the comments, lifting your spirits up even more. 

Course, posting anything on the internet invites every type of opinion. You’d be lying if you said they didn’t get to you. Standing up, you glance around the room, looking at the covered up canvases of artwork you had made, along with some from when your mother painted. Yawning, you checked the time, noting how late it had gotten. Rubbing an eye, you leave the room and head towards your bedroom. Your bed felt very inviting to you this late, and sleep came very easily. 

If you had stayed up just a little later, you would have heard something thud in the art room.


	2. Hurt like Mine

Stolas wasn’t thinking straight. As a matter of fact, he wasn’t thinking at all when he decided to leave Hell and get some time to think about...everything. His mind was still muddled from the nightmare he had earlier, and paying attention to his surroundings was the last thing he could reasonably do. Feeling the wooden flooring beneath his talons, he glanced up to see a room full of covered paintings. Curiosity overcoming the stress for a moment, the avian made his way over to one of the paintings, slowly moving the tarp with his magic. 

It was a beautiful landscape painting, a large mountain cut in two in the distance with a path leading towards it. Off to the side was a building with a prominent horse head figure serving as a roof. All set to a yawning sun just barely peeking out from one half of the mountain.

“What a lovely painting.” He said out loud, a small dark scribble in the bottom corner caught his attention. His eyes drifted over, reading the writing. “[Name]...hmm…: He covered the painting once more, gazing at the other similarly hidden paintings.

* * *

A loud buzzing roused you from your slumber, your eyes blinking several times and a yawn escaping your mouth as you fumbled for your phone. The brightness of the screen made your curse softly before quickly turning the light down. Swiping to turn off the alarm, you glanced at the clock, wincing at how little sleep you really got. 

With a grunt you sat up, running a hand through your hair. Grabbing the brush off of the nightstand, you straightened out your hair enough that it didn’t look like a total mess, before getting up and opening your bedroom door. Your feet carried you towards the kitchen, where you went on autopilot to make the one thing able to get yourself up in the morning.

“Mmmmnn…” you mumbled to yourself as the smell of coffee began to permeate the room. While waiting for the pot of dark life giving juice to finish heating up, you spared a glance at the pile of dirty dishes in the sink. Shrugging to yourself, you turned on the faucet and began the process of cleaning the tower of dishes. After a minute, you started humming, eventually letting your musical side out to play.

* * *

Stolas repeatedly found himself amazed at the level of detail in each and every painting he revealed. It was clear that whoever this [Name] was put pride in their work. Going over the last painting, he covered it up again and sighed. The artwork did little to ease his heart, but it was enough to get him to calm down. 

_Here in the boundless floating time, try as I might I can’t seem to fight_

_Cause that’s just the normal flow of life, I’ll cry and die now…_

The quiet voice that was singing was somehow louder to Stolas than his own increasing heartbeat. Glancing at the door, he slowly moved over to it, cracking it open. The voice was louder now, distinctly feminine in tone. Feeling bold, or perhaps reckless, Stolas inched out of the room and down the stairs, pausing at the last step. Weaving a short invisibility spell, he craned his neck to see the mysterious singer that had caught his attention so easily. 

From his point of view it looked like any other human. Definitely a woman from what he could tell and what little knowledge he had of humans. She turned to put away a dish, stepping over to the pot of coffee he himself had just noticed. 

His eyes were too busy being fixated on the soft glow of sunlight framing her face well during the moment she poured herself some coffee. She took a small sip, wincing and sticking her tongue out in an adorable way, blowing on it afterwards. She set down the cup and went back to washing the dishes, finishing up quickly. The demon panicked seeing her move in his direction, and he pressed himself against the wall, making himself as flat as possible. 

Unseen by the eyes, he still existed physically. And coming into contact with something not there visibly would raise some questions. He stared down at the female as she went back upstairs, following her as she went towards the art room. His heart beat loudly as he slipped in along with her. He watched as she removed the cover on the first painting he saw upon arriving. She slowly dragged a finger down the side, before going over to the nearby desk that had a computer sitting on it and turning it on. He moved closer to get a better look, watching as she scrolled through a list of names. She hummed as she found what she was looking for, opening a drawer on her left.

Stolas flinched when the solid metal collided with his knee with a resounding _Thunk!_ He leapt away, watching as the human raised an eyebrow, before shrugging it off. She took a roll from the drawer, peeling off a part of a sticker and copying a name from the screen, getting up and heading back to the painting where she stuck the sticker on the back, along with a written price. Stolas managed to glimpse at the price, and nearly gasped at the amount. 

Was her art really worth that much? Taking another glance at her, he tilted his head. Though the amount of money the artwork went to would make anyone ecstatic, Stolas could tell she wasn’t too enthused at the large sum of cash. Questions arose in his head, wondering why she wasn’t happy. Was it not enough? Looking around the room and from what he could tell from his time in the kitchen, that couldn’t be it.  
The house felt more middle class than anything else. And if the other paintings sold for just as much she probably had more saved up than what her house portrayed. He watched as she moved to another art piece, one that he had actually missed due to it being so far out of the way. 

Uncovering it revealed a much darker painting, one that had colors and streaks strewn about, yet still made a cohesive image to look at. There was no visible author name, the spot covered by a dark spot. 

“Mom...I miss you…” Stolas heard her whisper. His eyes went back and forth from her to the painting. Maybe this one was done by her mother? His thoughts were interrupted by sniffling. The girl had started to silently cry, rubbing her eyes and gritting her teeth. Despite knowing little of her situation, the owl demon could not help but feel sad for her. It reminded him of the precious times his own daughter came to him for comfort back in her youth. Wishing he could do something, but afraid of being found, Stolas could only watch as the girl continued to shed tears over the painting. He noticed how she was doing nothing to stop the tears from dripping onto the painting. 

When she finally stopped, her eyes were red and puffy. Rubbing one last time, she trudged out of the art room, turning right and walking back into her bedroom. Stolas moved to follow, but paused upon hearing the door close. Sighing, he finally let the spell that kept him hidden fade, feeling a bit faint at keeping it up for so long. Turning to look at the painting once more, an idea formed in his head, one that he couldn’t ignore.

* * *

You felt shitty. Really shitty. Silently you berated yourself over crying over mom’s painting again. How many times were you going to do that? Every time it just gets worse. You couldn’t keep doing this. You promised yourself you would move on but it’s just so goddamn hard. Your fingers curled as you hid your face in them, the pain of your nails above and below your eyes distracting you from crying again. Sighing, you decided you should just go back to sleep. Coffee in your system be damned…  
.  
.  
.  
.  
.  
.  
_“Mommy, mommy! Look what I drew!”_

_“Oh how wonderful sweetie! It looks amazing!”_

_“Not as nice as yours! They’re so pretty!”_

_“What, mine? Oh come on it’s nothing special.”_

_“Yes it is! I wanna be just like you when I’m older!”_

_“Haha, well keep on trying then [Name]. You’ll always have one fan to come back to.”_

The words reminded you harshly of what you used to be like. What art was like to you at first. It was routine at this point. You knew what came next.

_“An artist? Please, that won’t get you far in life! Get a real job!”_

_“Can you draw me next? I want to look cool!”_

_“That’s [Name]. People say she’s weird for drawing all day.”_

_“We’re calling because we’re concerned your daughter is always alone at school. It’s not normal for a kid her age to be doing that.”_ There it was. ‘Normal’; that word got tossed around a lot in your direction. She didn’t show it, but mom had a hard enough time being a single parent taking care of you and working as an artist. 

So you did what you had to do to ease her stress. You gave up drawing. Began to talk with others. The book filled with art and doodles left in some forgotten corner of your bedroom as you ran out to play with your ‘friends’. 

And then, the accident happened. You knew what was coming even before it echoed in the void your mind conjured. 

_“Hello?”_

_“Is this [Name]?”_

_“Y-yes?”_

_“We’re calling you because we need you to come to the hospital. Your mother has been in an accident.”_ Parts of that day were clear as a crystal. Others were so dull you couldn’t recount it no matter how many times you tried. It all ended the same. With you crying over your mother’s beaten and broken body, the steady sound of the heart rate monitor droning coldly as she left you. 

The memory faded as you felt the ground beneath you begin to sink. You knew what came next. Every Time this happened the whispers got just a bit louder. Now they felt like shouts more than anything else. The darkness stretched and ebbed, grabbing onto you as it dragged you into its viscous lies. 

_Look at you. Trying to escape into the very thing that killed mom._

_If you had just been there for her, this wouldn’t have happened._

_Where’s your precious art leave you now?_ The voices wouldn’t stop until you either woke up or broke under their pressure. 

The latter has steadily become more frequent than the former.

* * *

Stolas sat on the edge of the bed, glancing down at the human that was sound asleep. A moment ago he had been staring at the repaired painting of the mother of said sleeping human. The smeared paint from tears reversing and becoming fresh once more. It had been a painting of the mother and her daughter smiling brightly. The time it took to undo the tears told the demon all he had to know. 

It was an old painting, one that had sat ruined for many years. The smiling faces once again reminded him of his own relationship with his daughter, and how long it had been since they were happy together. 

“Nnnhh…” The groans brought him back, the slow breathy becoming erratic. Her face began to twitch, the peaceful expression turning to pain. Raising one arm, Stolas rested his clawed hands over her forehead. The nightmare was a strong one, most certainly a recurring one. It would take much for her to move past whatever ailed her. Whispering under his breath, the faint glow of a spell illuminated the room. He watched as the expression on her face fades back into the peaceful slumbering one. Smiling gently, he spent a few moments watching her rest. 

It all came to a halt when her eyes opened abruptly. 

“...”

“....” Human and demon stared at each other in stunned silence. 

“...erm, good morning?” 

In a quiet neighborhood town, in the early hours of the day, a loud scream pierced the air.


End file.
